


Regret

by GoodGuyJean



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Comforting after trauma, Flangst? Is that what fluff+ angst is?, Good Guy Jean, M/M, Really this is just fluff, Spoilers for 86, canonverse, mentions of canon character deaths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 00:07:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8265413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodGuyJean/pseuds/GoodGuyJean
Summary: Jean and Armin finally speak about what happened at Shiganshina. This story is set after the events of chapters 84-86, after the remaining members of the Survey Corps have returned to Wall Rose. The "teen and up" is for language, but it's language that's already in the translations of the manga so it shouldn't be too surprising.





	

The sky was threatening rain as Jean made his way back from the infirmary to the military barracks where he would be staying for the night. The morning had dawned beautiful enough as they had been hoisted by elevators back into Wall Rose, but as the day wore on the clouds steadily darkened. Jean wondered dimly if weather could reflect mood. They had appeared on the wall to a joyous ruckus from the people of Trost, celebrating that Wall Maria finally had been sealed after five hopeless years. That noise had turned to wailing when it became apparent that of the hundreds of soldiers who had left on the expedition two days ago, only nine—dammit, _nine_ —had returned alive.

 _And that’s not even the worst of it. Wait until they learn what’s really outside the walls._ If _they learn what’s outside the walls_.

Not for the first time since the uprising, Jean wondered what he would do if he was ordered to stay silent about the new information they had acquired from Eren’s childhood home. He supposed he had come to trust the Survey Corps’ motives in overthrowing the royal government, and he certainly trusted the good nature of the recently crowned Queen Historia. But he also knew that the military had not been quite as extensive in its purges of itself as it had of the royalist nobility and that the young queen’s power was extremely limited by the military that supported her. What if Commander-in-Chief Zackly and the others resorted to the tactics with which they were most familiar, namely trickery and deceit in the name of keeping the peace? What would he do then? What _should_ he do?

Jean clenched his right fist—the one not splinted and bound up in a sling across his chest—and shook those thoughts from his head as he strode into the barracks. Now was not the time to borrow trouble by worrying about “what ifs”, but the time to rest while he could. He had told Connie as much at the infirmary, but the shorter boy had stubbornly refused to leave their wounded comrade Sasha’s side.

_“What if she wakes up in the middle of the night and there’s no one here with her?” Connie didn’t look away from Sasha’s singed face, tears welling up again in his round red eyes. The dark-haired girl’s chapped and cracked lips moved soundlessly as she lay in her worryingly prolonged sleep._

_“She won’t be alone, Connie. The medics will be here with her,” Jean tried to reassure his friend._

_“That’s not what I mean.” Connie shut his already puffy eyelids and rubbed them once more, making them even more raw._

_Jean put his right hand on his friend’s shoulder and gripped it briefly in support. “Fine. Just try to get some sleep. They could call us up again at any time and we need to be ready to go.”_

_Connie only nodded in response and scooted his chair closer to Sasha’s cot as Jean removed his hand. As he was leaving the room Jean glanced back briefly to see Connie taking Sasha’s hand and holding it tenderly in one of his own._

At the barracks, an MP directed Jean to a room on the ground floor that had been reserved for the remaining rookie Survey Corps members. When Jean opened the door he realized, not at all to his surprise, that he was the first person here. The small windowless room contained nothing more than five cots, a washbasin and a stack of towels on a stand, a crystal lamp, and two chamber pots. That was really all they needed. He had already acquired a change of clothes and eaten at the mess in the infirmary, so all the remained was for him to rest as much as possible. Jean glanced at the five cots and considered the likelihood that he would be staying here alone this evening. Connie would stay with Sasha the whole night and Eren and Armin would be busy explaining the events of the past few days to the higher ups. Maybe Floche would make an appearance, but Jean had lost track of him since their return to Wall Maria and couldn’t say for certain where he would be staying the night.

Jean dumped his pack on the nearest cot and sat down beside it. The little bed groaned under his weight. He activated the crystal lamp and then began trying to work off his boots as best as he could one-handed; it was a more time-consuming process than usual. He took his time and tried not to give into frustration. He was worried about how well his arm would set up after the jostling, desperate horseback ride back to Wall Maria. As he carefully shimmied off first one boot and then the other his spiraling thoughts turned from his own injury to the welfare of his friends. He hoped that the military brass weren’t being too hard on Eren, Armin, and Mikasa. Especially Armin. Jean knew better than to underestimate the blond boy’s strength, but he had seemed particularly downtrodden on the journey back to Wall Rose. Hell, he had essentially been _dead_. Jean shuddered when he remembered the burnt husk that had been Armin’s body after his conflict with the Colossal Titan and the traumatic nature of his friend’s revival. Jean thought back to how Eren had been captured and treated after the discovery of his titan powers and wished that they would be kinder to Armin, who had already been through so much these past few days. Surely Levi and Hange would protect him.

After he finished tugging off his boots Jean stood up and went to the basin. He was pleased to see that someone had already filled it with water. He would wash his face and then crawl into bed (thankfully, the people at the infirmary had already removed his ODM harness so he wouldn’t have to struggle with that before going to sleep). He felt so tired and sore that he was certain under other circumstances he could sleep for days, but his thoughts were buzzing in his head with the news from Eren’s basement and his worries about his friends. “I didn’t sign up for this,” he muttered to himself as he dipped a towel in the water and squeezed it out with his good hand. He wiped his face once and then just held the cool, scratchy fabric to his face for a few moments, enjoying the cold sting of the water against his itching eyelids and faintly singed skin.

It was while he was standing there, leaning against the washstand for support, that the door opened and closed behind him. Jean started and dropped the towel into the basin, splashing himself a little with water. He turned hastily, his nerves on alert at the sudden sound, to see a small blond figure leaning against the wooden door. 

“Oh, Jean.” Armin glanced at him quickly with his large eyes before looking back down at the floor. “They let me go for a bit. They’re still speaking with Eren and Mikasa about Doctor Yeager’s journals but they’ve let me come and get some rest,” he blurted in response to Jean’s unasked questions.

“Oh.” Jean couldn’t find any more words so he just watched silently as Armin walked quickly from the door to one of the unoccupied cots and sat down, continuing to avoid Jean’s eyes. The blond still looked a little worn but someone had at least found a shirt for him (he’d been wearing only Eren’s jacket after his fight with the Colossal Titan) and he’d brushed his hair and washed his face. Despite looking a little tidier, Armin was clearly troubled. He kept his head bowed so Jean couldn’t see his face properly, but the larger teen was sure his friend had been crying again. As Armin began the much quicker process of pulling off his own black boots, various questions popped into Jean’s mind. _What are they planning? Did they hurt you? What’s going to happen to the Survey Corps now? Did they give Ymir’s letter to Historia? Have they come up with a plan for dealing with the Beast Titan and Reiner?_

Instead of starting on any of these logical conversation topics, Jean found himself looking at his young friend and remembering the burnt corpse he had been on the rooftops of Shiganshina. He felt his chest constrict and unthinkingly blurted, “I’m glad you’re alive, Armin.” 

Armin froze on the cot, his face still turned towards the ground and partially obscured by his curtains of blond hair. Then Jean saw his mouth tremble before his small shoulders started shaking and he dissolved into gasping tears. His face fell into his hands as his body heaved with sobs.

“Shit.”

Jean grabbed another towel from the stack and rushed to Armin, plopping down next to him on the cot. It protested under their combined weight but held. Jean nudged Armin lightly with his bad shoulder and winced at the slight twinge of pain.  He set the towel in his lap and reached across with his uninjured arm to pull Armin into a hug. It was a slightly awkward position that bumped their knees together, but Armin leaned into it anyway, weeping into Jean’s chest. Jean patted Armin on the back in what he hoped was a comforting manner. On his own end, in spite of protests from his stiff muscles, Jean found the sudden human contact incredibly comforting as well. Armin’s body was warm against his own; warm, moving, and very much _alive_. The vision of Armin’s dying form lying prone of the roof flashed into Jean’s mind again and he resisted the urge to squeeze his friend tighter. _Don’t go anywhere I can’t keep up. I can’t lose you too._

Once Armin’s sobs started to subside he pulled away from Jean. Wordlessly the brunet offered him the towel, which the blond took and used to scrub his puffy, tear-stained face. “I’m sorry,” he rasped. “It’s just . . . Eren and Mikasa have been saying that to me all day. I can’t believe it. I still can’t believe that Levi saved me, when he could have saved Erwin.” Finally Armin’s blue eyes met Jean’s hazel ones, searching. Jean felt a sudden ache that had nothing to do with his injuries. Of course Armin would still be worried about that. Armin was the type of person who was willing to sacrifice anything; who _had_ sacrificed everything he had to offer for humanity’s success against the titans. And now he had been brought back to life, against all odds and somewhat against reason. Jean was selfishly glad that Armin, his closest friend in the Survey Corps, was still alive, but he couldn’t pretend that he also wasn’t feeling the loss their visionary commander, Erwin Smith. _Who would I have given the serum to? I’m glad I didn’t have to make that choice._

Instead of voicing any of these thoughts, Jean placed a hand on Armin’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault Armin. What happened to Erwin is not your fault. It was Levi’s decision to save you and no one else’s.” Armin glanced down again but Jean lightly grabbed his chin to force his friend to look back at him. “And it’s not your fault about Bertholdt either. You weren’t in control of yourself. It’s our fault.”

Armin shook his head, more tears dripping down his face. “It doesn’t matter if it wasn’t my fault. Now I have the responsibility to use this power to save humanity. What if I fail?” Armin’s voice trailed off into a whisper and he stared blankly somewhere over Jean’s left shoulder.

“Well then, you fail.” Armin’s large wet eyes snapped back to Jean’s face. “Worst case scenario, you fail and we all die. But it probably won’t be all your fault if that happens. Besides, you hardly ever fail. Hell, you’ve saved my life—what?—four times now? And you came up with the plan to save us all back in Shiganshina, like I knew you would.”

“You helped,” Armin said, still whispering.

Jean nodded solemnly. “Sure, I did. I covered your ass out there, and I’ll do it again, if you need me to.” He reached out and ruffled Armin’s hair, drawing a thin smile and blush from the smaller boy. “But you’re great at coming up with plans Armin, even . . . even Erwin knew that. That’s why he trusted you so much.” Jean struggled against the tightening in his throat as he spoke of their dead commander.

Armin’s face fell again at the mention of Erwin’s name and Jean patted his shoulder once more. “We need you Armin.” I _need you._ Jean swallowed down that confession; now was probably not the time to address _that_ , if there would ever be a good time to address the complex feelings he had been developing for Armin over the course of the past few months. “So buck up and get some rest. You’ll need your strength for the days ahead.”

  
Jean stood and crossed back to the washstand to get Armin a damp cloth for his newly tear-stained face. As he turned his back Armin softly called after him, “Why are you always so nice to me?”

Jean paused briefly at the washstand before grabbing yet another towel and wetting it. “What are you talking about? I’m _always_ a delight to _everyone_. That’s what Shadis wrote on my graduation papers: ‘Jean Kirstein: he’s a helper.’”

Armin chuckled wetly. Jean grinned tiredly over his shoulder. “Don’t laugh: it’s true! Except when it comes to Eren. Eren’s still a bastard.” Armin snorted and rolled his eyes at Jean’s pettiness. Jean’s grin widened. His friend was perking up, even if it was only for a brief moment during an otherwise horrible time. _And why shouldn’t we laugh when we can? Maybe laughing’s the only way to get ahead in this cruel world_.

Jean walked back to Armin and offered him the damp cloth, sitting back down on the cot as he did so. Armin took it but didn’t raise it to his face just yet. Instead he looked at Jean earnestly. “I think that’s true though. Out of all of us who . . . who are left, you’re the one who’s always looking out for us. Even Eren.” Jean raised his eyebrows and Armin nodded in protest, leaning forward a little. “It’s true! You were always trying to pick fights with him back when we were helping Historia set up her orphanage. At first I thought you were just acting like you always did with Eren, but then I realized Eren wasn’t taking the bait. You kept pushing because you were trying to establish a sense of normalcy for him again, right?” 

“Psh.” Jean snorted and looked away. “I pick fights with Eren because he’s an asshole.” To be honest, he wasn’t quite sure why he had felt so compelled to test Eren after they had rescued him from the Reiss family’s creepy ritual, but something had seemed . . . _off_ about his erstwhile rival. When Eren had actually responded to his jibes on the night before they left for Shiganshina, Jean had finally felt like Eren was recovering from whatever psychological trauma the Reisses had induced in him. But he certainly hadn’t _planned_ it.

Armin just smiled faintly at Jean’s denial. “Well, even if you didn’t mean to, I think you helped him. And you always look out for Connie and Sasha—,”

“Because they can barely look after themselves.”

“—and you try to help Mikasa—,”

“As if she needs my help.”

“—and you’re always taking care of me,” Armin finished softly, meeting Jean’s eyes with his large earnest ones. Jean was suddenly aware that they were close enough that he could make out the dark smudges under Armin’s red-rimmed eyes and the faint dusting of freckles across his cute nose.

Jean swallowed, his mouth feeling very dry. When had they gotten this close? Their thighs were resting against each other as they sat side-by-side and now that Jean had noticed the contact it felt as if it were burning him. A part of him yearned to take Armin in his arms again, to extend the contact as if it would heal some of the pain inside of him after their journey to Shiganshina. _Fucking hell, get ahold of yourself._

Jean decided to deflect his sudden discomfort with more humor. “All of this flattery is really rich coming from the guy who told me I had, and I quote, a ‘villain’s face.’” Armin waved off his own words with a frantic hand.

“I meant it as a compliment! That despite your looks you’re actually a responsible and caring individual.”

Jean narrowed his eyes. “That doesn’t feel very complimentary for some reason, Armin. You may want to try again.” Was he flirting? Jean found the words slipping out of his mouth before he could help himself.

Armin buried his reddening face in the towel. “I-it’s not that I _don’t_ like the way you look.” Armin’s voice was muffled somewhat by the towel. “You actually look kind of handsome, but in a vaguely wicked kind . . . kind of . . . way . . .” Armin trailed off and froze with his face still hidden in the towel, as if suddenly too embarrassed to continue. Jean was actually a bit glad that Armin couldn’t see his own red cheeks. He willed his pounding heart to slow down. _Now’s really not the time to be talking like this. Not when Armin almost died and is feeling miserable and guilty for being chosen instead of Erwin. Not while Eren and Mikasa are being questioned by the brass. Not while Sasha’s lying in the infirmary, too weak to move. Not when we could all be dead tomorrow when the Beast Titan strikes again . . ._

A picture of Connie holding an unconscious Sasha’s hand floated to the forefront of his mind.

_Or maybe now is the only time._

“S-so it’s okay to say I look like a villain, as long as it’s a h-handsome one? Just what is your type anyway, Armin?” And just like that his stutter had appeared. _Shit, Kirstein. What the fuck are you doing? Just quit while you’re ahead._

Armin removed the towel from his face and grimaced. He glanced up at Jean before looking back at the floor. “It’s not important. Affection can only be used against you. And . . . and I don’t deserve it anyway.” He squared his thin shoulders and met Jean’s concerned gaze. He gave another shaky smile. “Thank you, Jean. I’ll try to rest, as you say.” He scrubbed his face quickly with the towel and handed it back to Jean. Jean didn’t take it.

“Why’re you always so hard on yourself?” He fixed Armin with a probing look and the smaller boy squirmed but stuck out his chin stubbornly. “Why don’t you think you deserve affection? Because you were chosen and Erwin wasn’t? Because you’re alive and so many others aren’t? Well, so am I. Do I deserve to be? No.”

Armin winced as Jean’s voice got a little louder. “If . . . if Eren and Mikasa hadn’t fought so hard for me, maybe Erwin would still be here,” the blond responded.

“Levi chose _you_. Eren and Mikasa couldn’t have stopped him if he had wanted to choose Erwin. I was there, Armin.” _I was the silent coward on the rooftop who was thanking the heavens that it wasn’t me who was making that decision. I wanted you to live, but who would I have picked? It doesn’t matter now._

“But maybe he wouldn’t have . . . maybe Hange could have . . .”

Jean held up a hand to silence his friend. “You can’t live like that, Armin. All these ‘but maybes’ and ‘what ifs.’ What if I had been there with Marco when . . . w-when he died? Maybe I could have helped him,” Jean’s throat tightened again when he thought of his dead friend’s mauled face and mangled corpse. “But I probably would have died too. From here on out you can try to make decisions based on what you’ll regret the least later, but you can only live in the moment, Armin. And I know you’re strong enough to realize that too, once you’ve had some sleep.”

He finally took the proffered cloth and used to it carefully wipe away the new tears threatened to spill down Armin’s cheeks.

“You sound a bit like Captain Levi,” was Armin’s quiet response.

Jean snorted as he wiped off the last tear. “Don’t compare me to that little monster,” he grumbled. They were now much closer than they had been even previously, their noses almost touching. Jean fought down the urge the jump away now before he said or did things he couldn’t take back. _You don’t even know what his preferences are. Hell, you don’t really know what your own feelings are! What if you push away your best friend because you do something completely stupid, just because you’re lonely and he has a pretty face?_ Despite these warnings, Jean didn’t move away.

 _Make decisions based on what you’ll regret the least later_.

No sooner had Jean made up his mind about kissing Armin than the smaller teen took the decision from his hands. He shyly put a hand on Jean’s good shoulder before leaning forward to quickly touch his friends’ lips with his own. Jean barely had time to register what had happened before the blond was scooting away from him, his whole face turning a furious red. “I-I’m sorry, I-I’m tired. I wasn’t thinking, I-I’m j-just so, so, so tired.”

Jean reached out with his uninjured arm, grabbed Armin’s hand before he could get too far away, and tugged him back. Without preamble he cupped Armin’s face with his free hand and kissed him again. Armin leaned into the contact, his arms winding around Jean’s neck. Armin’s lips were cracked and they bumped noses a couple times but Jean’s veins still hummed with excitement that he had the blond in his arms . . . or arm, more accurately. He pressed his tongue to Armin’s lips and his friend opened his mouth willingly, deepening the kiss. Then Armin shifted to get a slightly better angle and jostled Jean’s splint, causing the brunet to grunt in pain and jerk away.

“Oh, sorry! Are you okay?” Armin reached a tentative hand towards Jean’s injured shoulder before thinking better of touching him there again.

“Yeah, s’fine,” Jean’s voice sounded hoarse to his own ears. He felt lightheaded, but from the pain or from the giddy feeling of kissing Armin, he couldn't say. “I’ve had worse.”

Armin smiled a little, his eyes shining with something other than tears for once that evening. “Yeah, you have.” He leaned in again and firmly kissed Jean once more. “We should both sleep now, so you can heal and I can . . . process. Everything.”

Jean grinned, his heart still pounding fiercely, his head still spinning. “It’s been a long day.”

Armin blushed but met his eyes squarely and returned his smile. “It has, yeah.” He pushed Jean on the knee and the brunet stood up and went to his own cot. As Armin snapped off the crystal lamp and they settled into the close darkness of the small room, Jean stretched out on his back so as not to put pressure on his arm. His body sang with the memory of Armin’s touch while his head churned over all the potential scenarios where this development in their relationship could go horribly, horribly wrong.

“Armin?”

There was a rustle of blankets as his friend presumably turned in his direction. “Yes?”

“I really am glad that you’re alive.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of the few fan-fictions I have written, the first one I have ever published, and the first writing I have done in quite a while. I hope I did justice to the characters! I am a bit worried about Armin seeming so angsty that he's weak; I am wary of creating a weak Armin. I am also worried Jean's too . . . eloquent? I wrote this partially to help me process the recent events of the manga series but also because I was thinking about the scene where Jean comforts Armin after the latter has been molested and I realized that Jean is always comforting Armin/ offering him emotional support. It's an interesting dynamic; Armin always saving Jean's life, Jean always helping Armin process traumatic events after they happen. I wanted to explore that a bit. I would be grateful for any feedback :)


End file.
